How did she get here? The question rang through Stephan’s skull.
“Sir,” Dorian called from the doorway, voice low and careful. “Is everything in order?”
“Yes,” Stephan snapped out of his daze. “Please tell her to come here.”
Dorian’s lip twitched in disapproval. “Sir, it might be wiser to meet in a more private setting. I will call you for the war conucil.”
Stephan nodded. Right, it wouldn’t do for the young Paladin to have female servants alone with him. Rumors would spread faster than a summer wildfire.
“Thank you, Dorian. Please lead the way.”
Five impossibly long, nervous minutes passed.
Stephan paced his small, private breakfast chamber, boots scuffing softly against the polished floor. His palms were damp. Blood rushed through his neck and pulsed in his ears; the sounds clear in the quiet room.
Then a knock came.
“Come in,” Stephan said a bit too eagerly.
The door opened.
Dorian entered first, composed as ever. And behind him followed Lacy.
“Thank you, Dorian.” Stephan’s voice trembled; the young man hardly containing himself.
Dorian withdrew, leaving only the two youths. Stephan strode to Lacy and almost embraced her. He was so glad to see her he nearly missed her awkward expression. Thankfully, he stopped himself at the last moment. He grabbed his hands behind his back and squeezed, afraid he would mistakenly make an overly familiar move.
“Lacy, do you remember me?”
She searched his face as if it were a stranger’s. Then she shook her head.
The minute movement hit harder than any of the foes Stephan had fought so far. He swallowed, his throat suddenly tight and dry.
“Are you all right?” He stepped back, giving her space, though every part of him wanted to close the distance.
“No,” she said weakly. “Something happened to me.”
Stephan’s stomach sank, fearing for Brighthollow. “What?”
“There are holes in my memory.” She pressed her fingers to her temples. “My head hurts whenever I try to remember, and I get nauseous if I focus on it more. Mum told me about you when I asked her what was happening. Things no woman could forget, and I can recall them, kind of, with some trouble. But I’m alone in those memories, which is not possible.”
She looked at him with wet eyes, her breathing shallow. “You can’t have your first kiss with a blur, or—”
She gagged and dropped into a crouch, clutching her head with both hands.
Stephan reached out hesitantly, unsure what to do, but Lacy waved him to stop.
“It hurts,” she squeezed between clenched teeth. “Trying to remember hurts.”
“I know a powerful Priest,” Stephan said quickly. “Do you want me to call him? We’re having a meeting soon, but I can have Dorian fetch him.”
Lacy remained quiet. Her shoulders shook, and Stephan went to the door.
He opened it a crack. “Dorian, please summon Lord Silas. I need his help immediately.”
For the first time since arriving at Cliffort, Stephan saw the calm, elderly butler run. He raced down the stairs, and Stephan realized a mistake. Inside a fortress, a day after an assassination, he told someone he urgently needed a healer.
Brilliant! He wanted to find a rock to crawl under. I’ll be lucky if half the guards don’t storm the room.
He shut the door and turned towards Lacy, who stood swaying slightly.
“Are you all right?”
“The pain passes as soon as I stop thinking about it,” she said, her face still wan, voice trembling.
As stubborn as ever…
“As long as you’re fine,” he forced a smile. “So, why are you here if you can’t remember me? How did you get to Cliffort anyway?”
“I took some money from home and walked. Mum gave me a part of my dowry without telling Pa, and I used it to come here. Priests along the way were very helpful when I told them I’m the Paladin’s fiancée and that I was following him. I said you were expecting me.” She had the decency to avert her gaze when she said the last bit.
“They were kind. Gave me food and pointed me the right way.” She shrugged. “I met Old Man Tod on the road, but I told him Lady Clara sent me, and he didn’t bother me.”
Stephan stared at her. “Lacy, when did you develop a penchant for lying?”
She blinked. “Penchant? What’s that?”
“Tendency, fondness, I guess habit can count?” Stephan wasn’t entirely sure; it was one of the many new words he had picked up from Lord Silas, the late Lord Marshal, and the rest.
Lacy shrugged. “Anyway, I got here on foot. Along the way, I heard you’d died, or that the Paladin had died, but I was already too close to the city not to give it a look.”
She didn’t seem awfully sad about Stephan dying, and the fact didn’t go unnoticed. Still, he kept quiet and listened. Lacy reached the castle, caught Dorian’s attention through servants, and then even spoke with the Lord Marshal in person, who found her work in the kitchen after she told him her story.
“Mum told me some things about you, that you loved my cornbread. That should be what got me the job. Then you were back from the dead, and a day later Lord Harrington died, and I didn’t know what to do anymore. The world is going mad. I heard servants talk about fiends coming to eat us now that the Lord Marshal is gone.”
A knock on the door cut her story short.
“Lord Marshal,” Lord Silas called, “is everything all right?”
“Yes, please, come in.” Stephan felt no small amount of shame at hearing the old Priest’s winded speech. “I have something we should discuss urgently.”
Silas entered the room, scanning Stephan and Lacy.
“Do you sense any curses or afflictions on her?” Stephan asked, and Silas concentrated.
“See.”
His eyes blazed with gold as he squinted.
“She is perfectly healthy; nothing ails her.”
“Lacy,” Stephan said, realizing she was suddenly very nervous and self-conscious, “please try to recall any of the memories that cause you pain.”
She doubled over as if punched in the gut, clutching her head.
Silas took a step, a confused frown on his brow. “She is hurting, but there is no magic involved.”
Golden light gathered in his palm. “Soothe.”
He touched Lacy’s arm. The glow didn’t flow into her. Instead, it shattered and scattered. Silas jerked back, staring at his hand.
“You can stop, Lacy,” Stephan said quickly.
A moment later, she straightened, shaking, sweat dripping down her temple.
“What do you think?” Stephan asked.
The old man looked unsettled.
“Hope told me not to meddle in affairs divine,” he said. “I thought only the Saintess was privileged to hear a god’s voice.”
He turned towards Stephan and bowed. “I thank you for this unique opportunity. Could you perchance explain what this entire affair is about?”
Stephan tried. He told Silas what he could without choking — a part of his hometown had forgotten about him, his fiancée included. Stephan wanted to say why, but couldn’t. He wanted to say he could not speak of the secret, but once more the words died before reaching his lips.
Silas nodded slowly. “This is no curse. It is a divine edict.”
He turned to Lacy. “While I would love to investigate further, my god forbids it, and Sir Paladin and I have a meeting we must attend.”
He looked at Stephan. “Sir Paladin, if you will?”
“Lacy, do you wish to remain here or go home? Do you want to talk more, or would you prefer if I left you alone?”
“I just got here, and I don’t know anyone.” She hesitated, but caught Stephan’s pleading look. “I’ll stay a few days; I need to think about things.”
Stephan wanted to jump for joy. He might have, had he been alone in the room, but he wasn’t, so he settled on a soft smile.
“Thank you. There’s so much I wish we could talk about. And could you keep making that cornbread? Please?”
Lacy smiled. “Mum said you’d sell Greg for a piece of my cornbread, and that it was only part Greg’s fault.”
Stephan laughed. He could imagine Lacy and her mother joking about that. For a heartbeat, the world nearly felt normal.
“I hate to interrupt the tender moment, but we really ought to depart, Sir. The meeting isn’t due for a while, but we will hold it in your study, and as the host, you need to be present first.”
Stephan nodded, looked at Lacy once more with affection, and he imagined he would leave gallantly, but she returned his loving look with a polite one lacking recognition, and it pained him to the core.
“I’ll go to the kitchen. We can talk later.”
He watched her leave, the faint scent of flour and wood-smoke lingering after her as he closed the door behind her.
“What do you think?” Stephan asked Silas.
“I think that my god decreed I should not think about this matter, and I shan’t.” Silas glanced at Stephan and took pity on the youth. “That said, I can tell you no holy magic, short of divine intervention, will solve her problem.”
That didn’t help Stephan feel better.
“How often do the gods intervene?” he asked.
“The last known intervention was the creation of the classes. Records from earlier periods are unreliable, as mankind was fragmented and barely surviving, preyed upon by the fiends and fae.”
Stephan’s heart sank. Then a spark of defiance burned in his chest. He straightened his shoulders.
It was unlikely, but one day he would find a way. Until then, until he could bargain with the gods, he had a war council to attend.